The Legendary Spearman Returns

“Greetings, master.”

When their commander went down on his knees to pay his respects, the other knights immediately followed him.

“Greetings, master!”

Hubalt’s nobles stared blankly at the sight because this was their first time seeing any of the Martial Knights acting so respectfully. Judging from what they had seen of them so far, they were sure that the Martial Knights wouldn’t be this polite even if the emperor was standing there right now.

“Get up,” Bel said with a frown. The Martial Knights stood up in unison. “Did I expect too much from all of you?”

“Please kill me for my incompetence.” Hawke, the Martial Knight commander, slammed his head on the ground.

“Tsk. All I asked you to do was to open the way, but you’re still stuck in northern Avalon...”

“I... have no excuse for that.”

Hawke knew that there was nothing Bel loathed more than losers making excuses. A defeat was a defeat and the only reason why someone was defeated was because they were weak.

“Let’s just hear your reasons first. Is the Martial God over there or something?” Bel asked.

“My incompetency is the sole reason why I could not deliver victory to you, master. I beg that you take my life in exchange for your forgiveness. I hope that will be enough...”

“No, no. I’m just asking out of curiosity, really. Besides, you should be telling me what you know before you die to fulfill your last duty as my subordinate.”

“I apologize for my short-sightedness!” Hawke slammed his head on the ground again. His forehead was bleeding, but he explained, “Our three biggest problems are the Sword Emperor, Selim Sanders, and Ranger, who is one of the three best of Avalon’s Imperial Knights.”

“Selim Sanders? Ah, yes.” Bel nodded. “I’ve seen the boy. He looks exactly like his father.”

Selim was the least well-known among the three, but Bel didn’t even mention the other two people.

“But it’s strange. Judging from what I saw a few months ago, I don’t think he’s skilled enough to slow you guys down.”

“His Black Knights are also a force to be reckoned with, but yes—Selim Sanders himself is exceptionally skilled. In fact, he has fired several translucent spears at our camp,” Hawke reported to Bel.

“...Mind Sword?”

No, Mind Spear was the more accurate term for what Selim was doing. With that technique, he could kill his opponent with nothing but sheer force of will. In other words, Selim was at the level of an advanced Master and possibly even stronger. On top of that, Selim had even created and used several Mind Spears as projectile weapons.

“He surmounted the wall of a Master entirely and is reaching for a new level.” Bel chuckled. It was interesting to hear how much progress Selim had made. The last time Bel had seen him Selim had been merely a slightly gifted greenhorn. “Hehehe. I’m glad I spared him.”

“Pardon...?” Hawke murmured blankly.

“It’s nothing. Get up now. If you keep slamming your head like a dog, I’ll just step on it.”

Hawke slowly stood up, furtively glancing at Bel to see if it was really okay to get up.

“I-It’s the Sword Emperor!”

“Don’t panic! It’s about damn time for you to see how he attacks!”

“Our master is watching us! Don’t disgrace yourselves!”

The Martial Knights on the battlefield were currently divided into two groups. One group was making their report to Bel, and the other group focused on breaking through the hole that Bel had created in the fortress’s wall. It was no exaggeration to say that the outcome of this battle depended on whether or not they successfully breached the walls.

‘Master is truly remarkable. We’ve been working on it for months, but we were nowhere close to the wall. It took him a matter of minutes to single handedly break the walls...’

“Rest of you, join them!” Hawke shouted. “The Sword Emperor is as exhausted as you guys!”

From now on, it was a battle of willpower. Just like Hawke said, Tremblin was obviously fatigued and pale as he swung his saber. Well, that was understandable. He was an old, tired man already over one hundred years old. It would be humiliating to say that the Martial Knights’ stamina was lacking compared to Tremblin’s.

“I’ll take care of that old man,” Bel said.. He disappeared before Hawke could say anything.

Hawke stiffened, startled. ‘...He’s gotten stronger.’

Hawke himself had been a Master for many years, but he couldn’t even follow Bel’s movement. Hawke couldn’t begin to fathom how much stronger Bel had gotten.

“Hmmm...?” Tremblin frowned after cutting off a Martial Knight’s arm. He suddenly felt an immense fighting spirit bearing down on him from all directions before he faced a rain of punches.

Tremblin’s head, heart, temples, abdomen, groin... The punches were aimed at every vital point on his body. If any one punch landed, Tremblin would be able to wield a sword for the rest of his life.

A rapid, continuous din of metal clashing against metal filled the air. It was hard to believe that it was being created by a human fist contending with the sharp edge of a sword. Tremblin and Bel disappeared behind a curtain of sparks and raging aura. No one even thought about trying to approach them.

In an attempt to push away the opponent, Tremblin swung his sword as hard as he could. The massive explosion it created let Tremblin finally see that he was facing Bel.

“I see. I was wondering who it was...” Tremblin frowned from his signature pose with his hand behind his back.

“You should’ve retired a long time ago, old man, and yet you still crawl back to the battlefield. Aren’t you getting tired of this?”

“...Hahaha. I know I’m an old man, but I can’t retire because there are still young monsters like you surprising me at every turn.”

“Then may the young monster have permission to help you enjoy your retirement?” Bel grinned, waving his boulder-like fist.

Tremblin grimly drew his mana from his mana hall. “I don’t believe either of us have any reason to drag out this conversation. Come.”

“I will.”

Everyone held their breath, binding the air in a tense, suffocating silence. All eyes were focused on the fight between Bel and Tremblin. The morale of both sides hinged on the outcome; the winner would be irrefutable proof of who held the upper hand.

Selim arrived at the site of the fight.

“Duke Tremblin...?”

“Your Highness!” Avalon’s knights quickly approached Selim after noticing he had arrived. “You haven’t slept a wink in a week! Why are you already back?”

“...If I’m not mistaken, Duke Tremblin is fighting Hubalt’s Battle God. How am I supposed to rest right now?” Selim turned his attention to the battle. At least his eyes could keep up with the two Absolutes.

In a fraction of a second, the Battle God and the Sword Emperor had exchanged hundreds of attacks. The incessant halo of sparks denied Selim a clear view of the fight, as if the way they tore open the sky and shook the ground wasn’t bad enough.

Before Selim’s horrified eyes, Bel managed to land his first punch on Tremblin. Worse, it had hit Tremblin on the right shoulder, a critical part of the body for a swordsman.

“Duke—!”

Before Selim could finish his words, Tremblin was hit once again, this time in the left shoulder. Everything happened so quickly that Tremblin’s saber hadn’t even hit the ground.

“...Gah!” Tremblin was battered every which way until he finally went flying through the air.

Only then did the saber clatter against the ground.

“Duke Tremblinnnn!” Selim sprang forward before anyone could react... except one.

Bel had already caught up to Tremblin and his fist was cocked back.

“Goodbye, old man.”

Bel’s fist struck right over Tremblin’s heart. The duke coughed up a fountain of blood.

* * *

Kireua jumped right into the impenetrable red fog.

“What is this reek of blood...?” Kireua murmured, covering his nose. It didn’t take long for Kireua to realize the true identity of the fog. He had thought that it was a phenomenon entirely produced by Lucifer’s tricks, but he was wrong.

When he finally got through the fog, he laid eyes on a gruesome sight. It had been less than one minute, but two hundred Avalon knights had been annihilated; their corpses were the source of the rising fog. Their blood mixed with Lucifer’s mana was creating this unnatural fog.

“I assume you’re Kireua Sanders. Quite bold of you to voluntarily enter my domain. Hehehe.”

Kireua slowly turned toward the voice. There stood a man with blood-red hair and eyes that glittered with a sadistic joy. Oddly—for an Absolute—he was armed to the teeth and wearing full armor.

“...Do you know me?”

“Of course I do. You’re that motherfucker Joshua’s son. I’ve already imprinted every last detail of all of his family members into this body’s mind.” Lucifer unleashed a suffocating energy. “You’re going to die here today.”

“...Grand Duke Lucifer, you aren’t human.”

“You’ve got quite an eye,” Lucifer readily admitted. “Well, I guess it would be stranger if you hadn’t seen it when we have the same kind of power.”

As the owners of Evil Sins, they could recognize each other instantly—which was why Kireua was confident about his chances in this battle.

“Greed has been the king of the Seven Evil Sins for a long time, so...” Kireua drew his sword, eyes gleaming. “...I can’t imagine losing to someone pathetic enough to let his rage tempt him into selling his soul.”

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